Big City, Small World
by Miyakai Valentine
Summary: Alternate Reality. Renji is a dishwasher in an upscale restaurant owned by Urahara. However, washing dishes only pays so good, and Renji's behind on his rent. He's only got one week to pay it. Summary sucks. Read it.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone, and welcome to the first installment of my newest story, Big City, Small World. It's a Bleach Alternate Reality story, set in a big city where all of the residents know each other some how, or if they don't, they will soon. I hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I own nothing. /3

* * *

The door of a small apartment slammed, the resident grumbling as the neighbors on either side yelled at him through the paper-thin walls.

"Be more careful, moron!" one yelled.

"It's almost eight o'clock! What are you thinking, slamming doors like that?!" shouted the other.

Renji stomped angrily back towards his door and opened it, slamming it forcefully again. Shouts of protest came from the same neighbors, with the addition of the man downstairs complaining about the stomping.

"Oh, go have a fuckin' orgy! All of you need to get laid and get off my back!" Renji yelled, and all of the shouting died away. He heaved a heavy sigh and peeled off his work shirt, tossing it over his shoulder. There was a crash, and Renji's face contorted into pain and exasperation.

_'That was my lamp, wasn't it?'_ he continued into the small kitchen, not bothering to flip on the small overhead light that was most likely burned out anyway. He didn't have any light bulbs to replace it if it was burned out, and if he _knew_ it was burned out he would want to replace it.

_'I hate myself,'_ he thought dully, opening the first cupboard and pulling out a few bags. He turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the cupboard open. Before he could navigate his way to the table, he stepping onto a mess of broken, shattered _pain_. Renji yelped and hopped on one foot to the couch, falling onto it and landing on the remote, which turned on the television. His food temporarily forgotten, he used the light of the TV to look at the bottom of his foot.

_'Ow,'_ he cringed as he pulled out a small piece of glass from the ball of his foot.

"I think that was my last lightbulb," he muttered, putting his foot down and looking at the TV. There was a press conference on, the new senator standing off to the side. With a grunt, Renji leaned to the side and pulled the remote out from under himself, then turned the volume on the TV up.

"Th-thank you, but senator Kuchiki is done answering questions. He thanks you for your support," the young man – an intern, or the senator's go-to man, Renji figured – seemed to be extremely uncomfortable in front of so many cameras and reporters, for he quickly stepped down from the podium and bustled to the senator's side. The senator whispered something to the young man, who nodded, but no microphones picked it up.

"Senator Kuchiki! What was it that you just said to Mr. Yamada there?" One journalist shouted, but the senator ignored the question and began to leave the stage, the small, nervous boy following quickly behind. Renji started at the TV as the cameras followed the senator.

_'He's not bad looking,'_ Renji thought, reaching for his dinner of Doritos, peanut M&M's and mini marshmallows. A second or two later, Renji began choking on a handful of marshmallows. Coughing and sputtering, he dislodged the lumps of delicious while death from his throat.

"I'm not gay!" he shouted at himself, alerted by the thought, but he found himself staring at the senator on the TV once again, and noticing without shame that the man had a very nice ass. Renji shouted again and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently.

"You shouldn't lie to yourself," one of his neighbors shouted through the wall, and Renji threw the peanut M&M's in the direction of the voice. The bag exploded against the drywall and little colorful candies flew everywhere, bouncing across every surface. Renji whimpered softly at the loss of his main course, but settled into the worn-down cushions and quickly fell asleep, dreaming about giant marshmallows trying to suffocate him with their pillow-y goodness.

* * *

"Senator Kuchiki!" a woman yelled, fighting her way through the crowd and holding up her pen and paper. "Do you have any comment on the recent killings that have been occurring outside the city?"

The senator paused and turned to look at the journalist. The intern, Yamada, leaned forward, shouting above the buzz of the other reporters and the click of flashing cameras.

"Senator Kuchiki has no comment!" The young man responded, but the senator held up a hand, and the crowd instantly quieted.

"We are doing all we can in cooperation with the police to catch the men responsible for these senseless slaughters," Byakuya spoke deliberately, meeting the eyes of the woman who originally asked. The buzz picked up again as the senator got into his car with the young intern, and the reporters all followed the car for a half block before it disappeared into traffic. The young woman journalist, however, quickly got into her own car and disappeared in the other direction, heading back to her office.

The woman entered the office and quickly found her desk, typing away at aher compter before she had even seated herself.

"My hard-working Nanao," a man cooed, standing in the open door of the woman's office. The woman looked up at him and pushed her glasses up on her nose, a gleam in her eye.

"I got it, Shunsui," Nanao said intensely, starting to type again. "I'll have the story ready for tomorrow."

Shunsui chuckled and walked into the room, taking a seat on the edge of Nanao's desk behind her laptop. He leaned across the desk and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Just make sure you go home and get some rest," he said gently, and Nanao leaned into his touch for a moment but quickly snapped out of it. Her expression harded as she scowled at her computer screen, typing furiously.

"Do you harass _all_ of your employees like this?" she bit, but Shunsui merely chuckled and stood, shaking his head.

"Harass? I would never, my sweet Nanao! I look upon all of you as my children!" he swung his arms around dramatically as he spoke.

"You would have made a better drama teacher than journalist, you incestual pedophile," Nanao mumbled, but Shunsui didn't hear.

"I won't be here to check it for you in the morning, lovely Nanao, so I'll trust your judgement on this one. Don't let me down," he smiled his sparkling, charming smile, but Nanao looked up at him, her fingers hovering over the keys, expression grim. Shunsui only ever missed work when it had to do with…

"How is he?" she asked softly, feeling a pang of hurt in her chest for her boss and his childhood friend.

"Not so good," Shunsui said honestly, his expression falling. The pain in Nanao's chest swelled, and she nodded, aware of the pinpricks of tears in the corners of her eyes. "Which is why I'm going to see him tomorrow. Anyway, go home and get some sleep, lovely Nanao. You need your beauty rest. I'll let you know what the doctor has to say."


	2. Chapter 2

The second chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach or any of the characters therein.

* * *

Senator Kuchiki stared out the dark tinted windows of his car, ignoring the yammering intern in the background

Senator Kuchiki stared out the dark tinted windows of his car, ignoring the yammering intern in the background.

"You really shouldn't have said anything to that journalist, Kuchiki sir! Who knows what sort of story the news papers will come up with!"

"Yamada," Hanatarou stopped instantly, blood running cold at the sound of his superior's voice. "Let me handle the journalist. Go home to your mother."

The car pulled up outside a hospital and slowed to a stop. Hanatarou reached for his door handle, opening the door and beginning the slip out of the car.

"Thank you, sir!" The car was pulling away before the door was completely shut, and Hanatarou didn't stick around long enough to watch it drive away.

He walked up to the nurse's station and offered a wary smile to the young woman behind the counter, who blushed but offered a smile back just the same.

"Hello, Hanatarou. Your mother's in with a patient right now, but you can wait here for her," the lady lifted the counter and Hanatarou entered the nurse's station quickly. He took a seat on one of the swivel chairs inside and smiled gratefully at the woman who let him in.

"Thank you, Miss Kotetsu," the young woman blushed slightly and turned back to her computer, clicking files and typing little bits.

"Hanatarou! What are you doing here?" a woman with a long braid hanging behind her entered the nurse's station and removed her stethoscope from around her neck, then she removed her white coat.

"Mister Kuchiki dropped me off after the conference," he smiled up at his mother and rubbed the back of his head. The woman listened while she reached under the counter and grabbed her purse, gathering everything up as she prepared to leave.

"That was considerate of him," she smiled, although her voice held a hint of pleasant surprise. "Are you ready to go home, then?"

"Y-yes!" he jumped up and rushed to the lift the counter for her. "Goodnight, Miss Kotetsu!"

Isane smiled through her blush but waved goodbye to Hanatarou and his mother as they headed toward the exit.

"Doctor Unohana," a nurse approached from the doors that led out of the clinic and into the hospital. Retsu paused and looked back at the nurse.

"Yes?"

"Mister Ukitake wanted me to tell you goodnight for him," the woman said, and Retsu smiled.

"Thank you. Please tell him I said goodnight, and that his friend Mister Kyouraku will be here to visit him in the morning." The nurse nodded and turned back down the hallway. Retsu smiled down at her son before heading out the door and into the parking lot.

* * *

Renji woke with a start, wondering why his alarm was so obnoxious. It took him a few moments to remember that he didn't have an alarm, and just a few moments more to realize that someone was beating on his door and shouting. He jumped up from his couch, sending his Doritos from the night before flying. He made a mad dash for the door, landing once again on the broken lamp, and cried out this time as he felt a piece of glass slice the arch of his already injured foot. He limped the rest of the way to the door and opened it wide, resting his weight against it was he lifted his injured foot off of the floor.

"Miss Shiba," Renji cringed as he spoke the name. The woman put her hand on her hip.

"You're behind on your rent again, Abarai," her voice was low, face serious. She leaned around him and took a glance into the apartment.

"I know," Renji strained his voice to sound normal, trying to ignore the dull throb in his foot. He leaned the same direction as his landlady, attempting to block her view of the mess inside.

"You're tearing my apartment to bits," she said in the same tone, leaning to the other side. Renji attempted to lean in the same direction again but lost his balance and put his injured foot down. He flinched and picked it up again quickly. Kukaku's gaze fell down to his feet.

"And you're bleeding on my carpet," Renji looked down to see that a stream of blood had been dripping little ruby droplets onto the carpet before his foot, and he guiltily wiped the bottom of his foot on his pant leg.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking up to see that a small tic had started under Kukaku's eye. She stared at him for a long moment before smacking him upside the head.

"Fool! You have a week to get this mess cleaned up and your rent put together or you're out!" And with that, she disappeared down the hall. Renji sighed and looked at his watch.

_'Guess I should get ready for work,'_ he thought, shutting his door and limping back into the apartment.

* * *

Renji boarded the subway, holding his work apron over one arm and still limping. He hadn't bothered to bandage his foot, just washed it in the shower then thrown his socks and shoes on. He's put his hair into a French braid, something he had learned from a girl at the orphanage when he was young.

He fought to get a hole of one of the handles hanging from the ceiling, finally getting a grip on one after bumping and limping into many people. The ride continued in silence for a while until the car started to slow to a stop, throwing Renji's weight onto his injured foot and causing him to grimace in pain, his foot suddenly unable to support him. He jostled a man standing near him as his knee buckled, and the man raised his voice in complaint.

"Be careful!" The man barked, and Renji muttered and apology as he glanced up at the guy. The dark-haired man grumbled, smoothing and straightening his suit before pushing his glasses up on his nose. Renji scoffed to himself, noting that the way this guy carried himself reminded Renji very strongly of the senator who had been on TV the night before.

The subway came to a stop and the man exited along with a large group of business men in suits and working men in jeans. Renji stayed on, however, moving now to a vacant seat and lifting his foot off the floor.

Two stops later, Renji stood very slowly and carefully exited the car. He exited the station, crossing the street and entering the alleyway next to a large and very up-scale restaurant. He swung the door open and entered the kitchen, pulling his apron over his head and tying the back. Just as he made it to the sinks, a busboy walked up, removing an over-sized apron.

"Hi there, Renji!" the boy chimed, smiling brightly. Renji offered the boy as much of a smile as he could muster as he realized that he could hardly put any weight onto his injured foot.

"'Morning, Rikichi," the redhead offered, but the boy shook his head, smiling.

"It's afternoon. Anyway, I've been washing dishes for you since the afternoon rush started because the other dishwasher wasn't here and I didn't want to bug you or make you come in early. Now that you're here, I better get back to bussing. Later!" Rikichi scuttled off, exiting the kitchen before Renji could say anything. He smiled, turning to the sink to begin washing dishes, but someone called his name just as he was dipping his hands into the water.

"Renji," the owner came through the kitchen, looking less pleased than he normally did.

"Hey, Urahara, what's up?" Renji began drying his hands on his apron and the owner nodded toward the entrance to the restaurant.

"Displeased customer. Could you come with me?" Renji sighed by followed his employer into the main dining area. Kisuke led him to a table where a man sat alone, his silverware set far apart from his plate.

"Mister Ishida, sir," Kisuke greeted, and it seemed to Renji that they were familiar with one another.

_'Must be a regular,'_ Renji thought, however he stopped his thought short as Kisuke began to speak again.

"Would you mind telling Renji here what exactly the problem is?" the man sighed and rolled his eyes behind his glasses, clearly irritated at having to repeat himself.

"My silverware is dirty. I would merely like a new set," the man spoke, the irritation clear in his voice. Renji realized with a surge of panic that this was the same man he had bumped on the subway earlier. What would happen if this Ishida recognized him?

"Well, Renji?" Kisuke was looking at him, expectant, and Ishida was looking at him with the scarcest bit of interest. Renji realized that an apology was in order, however…

He hadn't touched a dish yet today. Rikichi was responsible fore all of the dishes that had been washed before is arrival, but Renji knew he's have to apologize and take the blame. Busboys weren't supposed to wash dishes.

"I'm sorry," Renji bowed his head, afraid to look the man in the eye on fear that he would be recognized.

"Very well. Now, I will get your fresh set of silverware, Mister Ishida, and for all of your trouble, Renji will pay your bill for this afternoon," Kisuke chimed, a wide grin spreading across his face, and Renji bowed his head more to hide his grimace.

"That isn't necessary, Urahara," Ishida said, and Renji could feel the other man's eyes on him.

"Nonsense. I insist," came Kisuke's reply, then Renji was taken by the elbow and led away toward the kitchen. Renji pulled away and stopped just in front of the doors, looking at his employer.

"Please, Urahara. The food here is expensive! I can't afford that guy's bill!" Renji pleaded softy, but Kisuke's only reaction disheartening.

"Then it'll come out of your paycheck," Kisuke shrugged before turning and entering the kitchen. Renji sighed, glancing back toward the man's table only to find he was being watched intently. Frowning, Renji gave a resigned sigh and re-entered the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long, everyone! I see that a lot of people have added this story to their story alerts; thanks so much for that! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, as well. I hope that I can continue to find time during school to keep this going!

There's a couple of minor time skips in here, so sorry about that, but I think that everyone should be able to keep up alright. :3

**Disclaimer:** Bleach and it's characters belong to Tite Kubo. I own nothing.

* * *

The door of the hospital room opened and the man sitting in the bed sat up a little straighter, looking up from his book

The door of the hospital room opened and the man sitting in the bed sat up a little straighter, looking up from his book. A smile bloomed on his weary face when he saw the familiar flamboyancy of his best friend.

"Interesting tie. Where did you get it, Shunsui?" the man asked, closing his book and setting it aside. The darker-haired man in question sat in the chair next to his friend's bed and smile.

"Department store," Shunsui answered simply, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "How've you been, Jyuushirou?"

"I didn't know they sold men's ties in pink," Jyuushirou chuckled, leaning over and gently running Shunsui's tie between two of his pale fingers. "I've been alright. I do like this tie, though."

"Alright?" Shunsui asked skeptically, grasping Jyuushirou's hand in both of his own and holding it gently like a delicate baby bird. "Your skin blends in with my shirt, I can't tell where your forehead stops and your hair begins; how can you say you've been alright?" Shunsui's tone and expression where uncharacteristically serious, but Jyuushirou laughed softly and allowed the larger man to hold his icy hand.

"Well, I have been worse," Jyuushirou reminded his friend, and Shunsui's eyes flashed with the pain of the memory. "But I'm doing much better today than I was a few days ago when the hospital must have called you. It's just been a rough week."

--

Shunsui left the hospital an hour later, sitting in his car in the parking lot for a long time before he turned the key in the ignition and drove away.

This visit, like so many before it, had left Shunsui's mind unsettled. The doctor called yesterday and had told him this was it. Of course, it had happened before, but Shunsui went anyway, in case this was the real deal. But just like the many times before, Jyuushirou seemed miraculously better. It wasn't logical, Shunsui knew, and not even Doctor Unohana understood anymore. 'Nothing about this case is rational,' she had told him after this most recent visit. 'We have no way of knowing what could happen next.'

Shunsui signed and turned off the highway that headed toward his work. He decided work could wait for now; he needed a drink.

* * *

Renji walked into his apartment, shedding his apron as he sighed. He should have worked a longer shift, he knew, but he had a week – seven days – to clean up the apartment and pay the rent. He could start working longer shifts once his disaster area was inhabitable.

Renji dropped his apron on the floor by the door and took a good look around the sea of dirty clothes and trash.

'Speaking of disaster area,' he groaned inwardly. 'Where do I start?'

--

An hour and a half later, Renji stood in the middle of his (almost) clean apartment. All the blinds and windows were open, letting in clean air and sun light, and his door was propped open with a laundry basket full of dirty clothes. A girl walked in carrying a basket that was overflowing with clothes fresh out of the dryer. Renji limped over and took the basket from her, setting it down near the table. He grimaced when he accidentally put his weight down on his injured foot and fell into one of his kitchen chairs. The girl sat down across from him and smiled a small, aloof smile.

"Thanks for all your help today, Inoue," Renji grinned sheepishly, lo0oking around the small apartment that no longer looked like a college dorm room. "I only wanted to borrow your vacuum."

Orihime giggled and folded her hands on the table in front of herself.

"It wasn't any trouble, Renji! I was more than happy to help when I saw you could barely walk down the hall," she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Renji noticed as she did this just how pretty she was, however he also noticed that he wasn't affected by this like he should be.

'Aw, fuck. I'm really gay, aren't I?' he whined to himself, feeling extremely depressed all of a sudden.

"Can I get anything for you?" Renji looked up to see Orihime standing in his kitchen holding a teakettle he hadn't realized he had.

"No, I'm alright," he said, then added, "But you should really let me do that. You're the guest, right?"

"Nope," Orihime sang brightly, putting the kettle on the stove. "I'm not your guest, I'm your friend, and I'm here to help. Besides, you shouldn't be standing on that foot of yours."

"You're tellin' me," Renji mumbled, staring with contempt at his injured foot in its shoe.

"I still say you should go get it looked at," Orihime chimed softly, picking up the laundry basket by the door and replacing it with a kitchen chair so the door wouldn't swing shut behind her. "I'll be right back. This is the last load, right?"

Renji nodded and Orihime turned down the hall, disappearing from sight. He sat in quiet thought for a while, staring at his injured foot (or rather, the shoe that encased it).

'I couldn't afford the medical bills even if I wanted to get it looked at,' he thought miserably, dropping his chin into his hand, elbow resting on the table.

After what seemed like just a moment to Renji, but must have been a few minutes at least, Orihime returned carrying an empty laundry basket. She placedi t on the chair that was holding the door open and lifted the basket near the table onto her unoccupied chair. She dropped a sock she had just picked up when the teakettle started whistling and bustled into the kitchen to remove the screaming object from the heat.

Orihime returned again with two mugs of steaming tea. She set them on the table, pushing one towards Renji who thanked her but didn't touch it. The girl began to fold his laundry in silence, putting it in piles on the table as Renji watched blankly, ignoring his tea.

"So I was thinking," Renji almost jumped, surprised when Orihime began talking again a few minutes into the silence. "I noticed that you don't have very much to eat, so how about later we go grocery shopping? Or I can buy your groceries while you take these – " she picked up a small pile of folded clothes and dropped it onto Renji's lap. "- To the tailor."

* * *

After much protesting and debate, all with ltitle to no success, Renji gave up trying to talk Orihime out of buying his groceries. She had made up her mind, and while this didn't exactly bother Renji, he knew well enough that the girl's taste in "real food" was questionable.

Orihime dropped Renji off at the tailor, convinced he couldn't walk there, then went around the block to the grocery store to stock her friend's cupboards. Renji stood on the sidewalk under the dreary sky and stared at the plain, unmarked building that was the tailor's shop.

'Kinda bland, ain't it?' he asked himself, and then thinking back on his dark, undecorated apartment, he realized he wasn't one to talk about bland.

A little bell tinkled when Renji opened the door to the shop, and the redhead looked up at the door to try to find the source of the noise. The door shut soundlessly behind him, and looking around the darkened little shop, Renji began to wonder if there was even anyone there. However, an angry young man came storming out of the back room that Renji hadn't noticed, and all of the lights quickly flickered on. The young man huffed angrily to himself as he slid behind one of the tall counters and began rummaging through the drawers, and Renji couldn't help but notice the man's suit.

"Uh," Renji began, and the young man whipped around the suddenly, eyes locking onto the redhead's face. Renji then realized two things at the same time; the first being that he should really work on not sounding like an idiot. The second being…

'That's the guy from the subway and the restaurant!' his mind screamed, but Renji could only stare. The guy – 'shit, what was his name?' Renji struggled – looked at him almost blankly, apparently not recognizing the redheaded dishwasher (Renji was eminently grateful for this).

"Can I help you?" the man asked impatiently before Renji could attempt speech again. The redhead continued to stare for a moment longer, taking in the air of elegance and beauty that tailor held.

"Yeah," Renji finally spoke, ashamed once again of his lack of intelligence. He took a step toward the counter and tried to redeem himself. "I need these fixed."

The man gave him a skeptical look and pushed his glasses up on his nose. He took his time seating himself on a tall stool behind the counter, then eyeing the garments in Renji's arms, pulled out a spool of thread and began threading a needle.

"Funny, I thought you came in here for your health," the sarcasm in the man's tone didn't escape Renji, and the redhead felt a surge of irritation. The man – Renji was even more frustrated because he still couldn't remember his name – stared at his unconventional customer as he bit the thread off and tied it. "Bring them here, then."

Renji obeyed, brining the garments to the counter and placing them in front of the man. The redhead eyed the needle for a moment before taking a nervous step back. He watched as the tailor picked up one of the articles of clothing, only examining it briefly before quickly setting to work with a speed that – and Renji was pretty certain about this, given his lack of sewing expertise – couldn't have been humanly possible.

"Where did you learn to sew?" Renji attempted small talk, bewildered as the man quickly finished one garment and started another. Renji had always been under the impression that sewing was only a life skill for women, and that all of them had to know it, but men never had to know what a thimble was. But after Orihime had suggested Renji take his torn clothes to the tailor, and the redhead had stupidly asked why she couldn't fix them, he quickly found out that not all girls know how to sew.

"I taught myself," the man answered, and Renji snapped himself out of his thoughts. "When I foud that ti was something I had skill in and that I enjoyed, I decided to attempt to make a business out of it. I finally got my own shop a year or two ago."

Renji found that for some reason he was extremely interested in what this man had to say. He wanted to know more, but was slightly wary of him, somehow knowing it would be dangerous to make him angry.

"And you make pretty good money doing this?" Renji glanced up at the man's unchaing expression, waiting for a reaction. Renji remembered the man's bill from the restaurant that he, Renji, had had to pay, and he remembered the serious dent it had put in his bank account.

"The pay is fair," the tailor answered, finishing mending the last garment then folded it along with the others. Renji stared at the flawless mending job that had been done and numbly reached for his wallet.

"How much do I owe you?" Renji's voice was slightly weak, anticipating the steep price of such a personal servie. The tailor picked the pile of clothes up and slipped them into a plastic bag he had produced from behind the counter.

"Nothing," the man said simply, writing up a small receipt and placing it into the bag as well. He held the bag out to Renji, who didn't take it.

"Nothing?" he repeated, not sure he had heard right. The man nodded and Renji began to think through all of the possibilities of what the man could have meant.

'Nothing, I'm going to keep your clothes and kick you out now,' was one, but while Renji wouldn't put it past the guy to throw him out, keeping the clothes wouldn't make much sense; Renji had noticed almost immediately that the man was of a much smaller build than he.

'Nothing,' as in, 'There's nothing you could give me that would pay for this,' was the second possibility that crossed Renji's mind, and the crestfallen feeling that struck his heart must have reached his face as well because the tailor began to explain.

"I figure it's the least I could do after you were forced to pay my bill yesterday," Renji stared for quite a while before the man's – Ishida! That's what his name was. Uryuu Ishida. – statement registered.

"O-oh, well, uh, it's no big deal. I mean, it was my fault about your dishes, or whatever, anyway," Renji tried, reaching for his wallet again, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"No, it wasn't," the man's voice was softer now, but no less forceful than before. "You were on the subway with me. I yelled at you," the man paused, looking a little ashamed now as he adjusted his glasses. "you didn't get to work until after I had been served. Not to mention you hands. They weren't wet or wrinkled like the hands of someone who had been washing dishes all morning."

Renji gaped, mouth open, trying to find something to say.

"Wow," was all that he could manage, so the tailor looked away, embarrassed, and shook the bag at Renji. The redhead took it, still staring as the man hurried away and disappeared into the back.

Renji pulled out his wallet and yanked out a bill, looking at it forlornly before pulling a business card from Kisuke's restaurant out and paperclipping the two together. He grabbed a pen on the counter and scribbled a little message on the back of the card before exiting the shop into the street.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of the associated characters. Copyrights go to Tite Kubo and Viz Media.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry! I feel so bad for taking this long (six days short of a whole month!) on this story, but life just caught up with me. Family life has been crazy, one of my best friends decided not to be friends with me anymore, and my Anatomy and Physiology class has really kept me busy. Not to mention Clothing I, Graphic Design II, and...just about everything else. But I found time these past couple of days to work on it and finally spit out something decent-chapter-length. So, I'm really horribly sorry that it took this long guys, but for all of the waiting I've caused you, I hope you like it! 3

Warnings: Profanity (only mild amounts), slightly graphic description of a crime scene...that should be about it. _

* * *

The little bell of the shop tinkled as the door shut and Uryuu leaned carefully out into the main area of the shop, checking to be sure the customer was gone. He huffed in an annoyed manner upon seeing that the room was, in fact, empty, and stepped out of the back room to clean up the counter. He swept up the needle and thread he had left sitting out and tucked them away into a drawer. He prepared to sweep the counter off with his hand but paused, seeing a white business card, bright and offensive standing out against his black countertop.

"What in the…?" He plucked the card up from the onyx surface and pulled the bill off the back, staring at it incredulously before turning his attention back to the card. It was a card from his favorite up-scale restaurant, the one owned by Mr. Urahara. Uryuu's nose wrinkled and he flipped the card over to inspect it, and then froze, staring at the chicken-scratch message on the back.

'Dinner's on me.'

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he groaned, and thought his occupation failed to notice another man stepping haughtily out of the back room, straightening the lapel of his suit coat. He glanced over Uryuu's shoulder and seeing the bill and note, smirked.

"You can treat me to dinner, then in place of your rent for this month," the man's smirk grew as Uryuu jumped and turning around, glaring contemptuously.

"If that will get you off of my back about it, fine," Uryuu hissed, turning back to the counter and pocketing the bill. "I thought fathers were supposed to be more merciful toward their sons."

Ryuuken plucked the business card out of his son's grip and gave it a once-over, sniffing in disdain at the piece of card stock, apparently offended by it.

"Not when said son is squandering the money he owes his father on lavish meals at Kisuke Urahara's restaurant," came Ryuuken's response, and Uryuu snorted ungracefully, adjusting his glasses again.

"Squandering? You shouldn't let your imagination run away with you like that, father."

Ryuuken glanced at Uryuu before heading toward the door. He paused, hand resting on the door handle and looked back at his son, expression unreadable as ever.

"I'll be back around closing so you can treat me to dinner," the white-haired man said wit ha tone of finality before exiting the shop. Uryuu gave a heavy sigh of relief once his father had disappeared, and promptly seated himself on a stool behind the counter, staring at money and business cared laid out on the counter; both of them stared back.

* * *

Renji had wandered around the block a few times, still limping badly. Every now and then he'd glace down at the bag in his hand, mind wandering back to the tailors hop and the unconventionally attractive tailor. Renji mentally kicked himself, sighing as he stopped limping along. He realized now (a little too late, in retrospect) that he probably shouldn't wander far from the tailor shop. After all, he was waiting for Orihime to pick him up and if he got too far away, how would she find him?

Renji didn't have to worry for long as Orihime pulled up just a moment later, waving rapidly at Renji as she shouted through the open passenger window.

"Quick, Renji-kun! Hurry!" Renji obeyed, swinging the door open and jumping in. He had enough time to glance at the bags of groceries spilled over the back seats before he was jerked back in his seat with the momentum of the car. Orihime was already weaving through traffic like a mad woman, and Renji struggled to buckle up.

"What's going on?" his voice climbed a few pitches in surprise and worry. Orihime didn't look at him or answer his question, but leaned forward and turning the radio up.

KILLER STRIKES AGAIN

**ANOTHER BODY FOUND**

**UNPROVOKED ATTACKS**

**POLICE WARRANT CAUTION**

**STAY IN YOUR HOMES**

She turned the radio down again as the message began to repeat itself and finally looked at Renji, eye wide and fearful. Renji felt like he was looking in a mirror.

"They found another one," she whispered timidly, and Renji nodded as if answering a question. They both stared blankly out the windshield for a long moment as Orihime drove in silence, the dull murmurings of the radio in the background.

"Let's go home," Renji said after a while as Orihime turned onto the street that let to their apartment building.

"Yeah," Orihime nodded, switching the radio off completely. "Let's."

* * *

"That's nasty," someone spoke as the sirens cut off and a third policeman joined the other two at the scene, all three wearing a similar grimace at the sight of the body.

"No shit," another one said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up. The one that still had yet to speak flipped his hair back and scowled at the one puffing on his cancer stick.

"Smoking is disgusting, Ikkaku," he spoke with a better-than-thou tone. The bald one turned and stared at his companion for a moment before blowing a cloud of smoke into his face.

"So's your face, Yumachika, but you don't see me complaining," he grumbled as the dark-haired man hacked and wheezed.

"Shut up, both of ya," the tallest one growled, and they both silenced, eyes fall on him. He was staring at the body, a young male – maybe mid-twenties – with blonde hair and a teal tattoo on his right cheek. It was anyone's guess what the color of his eyes were, as one was missing – stitched shut and covered with an eye patch; obviously an old wound. The other, however, had been gouged out recently (hopefully after death).

The three police officers would have continued to stare if it hadn't been for the commotion of another car pulling up behind theirs. They turned at the sound of slamming doors and large cases being moved.

"Move aside," barked a shrill voice before the owner came into view. The blue-haired, impossibly pale head of the crime lab forcefully pushed his way through, sneering at the police officers before laying eyes on the body. His eyebrows rose and his typical sneer turning to something resembling a grin as he examined the scene, picking apart the victim with his eyes.

"Wonderful," he hissed with glee, before his face snapped back to his normal expression and he began barking orders to the lab workers that had accompanied him.

"Akon. Nemu. Bring the equipment and begin bagging evidence. Take samples. If you think the first sample you took is insufficient, take another. I want no mistakes. Have the body sent back to the lab when you're done," he walked away after this and the squints bustled in, eager to follow orders. The three policemen glared after the man as he walked away, stepping aside to keep their distance from him.

"Creep," Kenpachi muttered, and the other two nodded fervently in agreement.

* * *

Uryuu checked his watch anxiously as he locked the doors of his shop later that night. He hoped beyond hope that if he looked up and left early that Ryuuken would arrive to see the shop empty and forget about dinner for the evening. A silly thing for Uryuu to presume, because he knew his father would never fall for such a thing – he'd find Uryuu at his apartment, or postpone dinner until the next night, but he would never forget; Ryuuken never forgot anything.

A taxi pulled up outside as Uryuu shut the lights off and opened the door. He squinted at it and the driver hocked the horn, making him jump. The back door swung open and the smug face of his father appeared.

"Hurry up, or I'll have you pay for the taxi, too," Uryuu sighed and followed his father's orders, shutting the door to the shop and clambering into the taxi. The vehicle was in motion before Uryuu even had the chance to shut his door.

"Punctual as usual, I see," Uryuu commented dryly, focusing his gaze out the window. There was a rustling beside him and Uryuu glanced over to see his father pulling a newspaper out of his jacket.

"Trying to close up early, I see," the older man countered while laying the newspaper out on the seat between them. Uryuu stared at the photo of yet another body below the headline.

"Another? So soon?" he hated how startled he sounded. Ryuuken nodded and snatched the paper up, folding it and replacing it within his jacket.

"They say he's working faster now," Ryuuken stared straight ahead through the wire mesh and plexi-glass divider and gazed out the windshield. Uryuu watched his father's expression falter and felt a surge of panic wash through him. Ryuuken was worried? The idea was impossibly foreign, yet Uryuu had to swallow the shout of terror that was creeping up his throat. He forced himself to look out his window again.

"They also say its no longer safe to wander the streets alone," Ryuuken continued, and Uryuu caught his reflection in the tinted glass of the window. "Even in broad daylight."

Uryuu felt bile rise in his throat as he was hit with sudden nausea. The killer was attacking during the day now? That meant no one was safe.

The taxi slowed to a stop outside Kisuke's restaurant. Uryuu forced himself to follow his father's example and exit the taxi, ignoring the uneasy shaking in his legs.

* * *

So, uh, yeah. Hope there was no confusion there. I hope the identities of the murder victim and head of the crime lab were made clear enough, but if they weren't...well, sorry. 3


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bleach. Period. I'm making no profit from this, only gaining amusement and writing skill.

**Author's Note: **I told you guys I wouldn't take as long with this one, and I've (sort of) made good on my promise. True, the wait was still probably a little lengthy, but this chapter didn't take me two months to get to you. I've already started on chapter six, so keep an eye out, and I hope you enjoy!

**

* * *

**

One seated at their table in the restaurant, the Ishida men settled in, both ordering a drink before their meals. They sipped in silence, listening to the sounds of the other patrons, silverware scraping plates, quiet conversation, and occasional peals of laughter. Uryuu risked a glance over the rim of his glass at his father, retracting his gaze when he saw his father was watching him. He hated that he always felt guilty and ashamed under Ryuuken's gaze, even if he knew he had done nothing wrong. The elder man's eyes were always filled with scrutiny and criticism and Uryuu hated that all through his childhood and even now.

The waiter arriving startled Uryuu out of his thoughts and he stared blankly at his food as the plate was set in front of him. He slowly unwrapped his silverware and spread his napkin over his lap, looking up see his fathering doing the same. However, Ryuuken paused, fork in hand, and Uryuu felt an inexplicable wave of panic overtake him as his father scrutinized the utensil. Uryuu felt his heart rise in his throat as his father called a waiter over to inspect the dirty fork. The waiter disappeared, reappearing just a moment later with the owner in tow.

'Please don't be working. _Please_,' he thought desperately, remembering the incident form the day before and not wanting a repeat performance. Kisuke was a generally kind and forgiving person, but not when it came to his restaurant. The redheaded dishwasher would get fired for sure this way, whether it was his fault or not. People like Ryuuken wanted to see action from restaurants like this, and Kisuke wasn't the type to just give his employees a slap on the hand and send them back to work.

He watched the hushed exchange, not really hearing or seeing anything until a shock of red hair emerged from the back room, looking like a kicked puppy, and Uryuu's hear tightened, squirming in his chest.

"Mr. Abarai," Kisuke began, tone all reprimanding and holding no forgiveness. Uryuu, shocked out of his own thoughts by the louder tone of the man's voice, stared at him with widened eyes, looking quite like a deer in headlights.

"Would you care to explain to myself and Mr. Ishida why it is that he is unable to dine with his utensils?" At the mention of the familiar name, Renji's head shot up, gaze locking on Uryuu's for a moment, then shifting to Ryuuken. He looked down at his shoes quickly, taking note of the slight resemblance between the two men. However, the elder's gaze was too intense and Renji found himself shifting uncomfortably under the weight of it.

Kisuke didn't wait f or an answer, rather sighed and lowered his voice, turning more towards Renji and slightly away from Ryuuken.

"This is two days in a row, Renji," he said to the redhead, a small amount of sympathy seeping through his voice. "You know what that means."

Renji opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Uryuu jumping up from his seat, throwing his napkin down on the table.

"It wasn't him," he spoke indignantly, feeling a slight flutter in his stomach that he didn't have an explanation for. He looked to Renji, silently urging the redhead to defend himself. However, the dishwasher had already removed his apron and was handing it to Kisuke.

"Tell him!" Uryuu shouted, angry now, but the saddened and defeated look Renji gave him extinguished any further flame of indignation.

Uryuu watched Renji walk away, exiting the restaurant through the front doors, a nameless emotion stirring in his chest as he felt his throat constrict.

"Uryuu," Ryuuken spoke warningly, and the young man sank into his seat, deflated and empty.

* * *

Renji cursed as he slammed the door of his apartment, jumping when he heard the surprised squeak of the girl seated at his table.

"Orihime?" he blinked at her, temporarily forgetting that he was now unemployed. The girl laughed, an odd sound filled with nervousness and relief. "What are you doing here?"

He watched the girl shift awkwardly in her seat, looking embarrassed and apologetic. Finally, she jumped up and ran to him, hugging him tightly around the waist and throwing him off kilter, forcing him to put his weight on his injured foot. He cursed, and Orihime began stringing together apologies.

"Sorry, I should have been more careful oh gosh you're bleeding again I told you didn't I that you should get that looked at sorry sorry, oh I'm so stupid—"

Renji grabbed her by her shoulders and gave her a light shake, bringing her back down to earth.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated the question, tone softer now as he looked her in the eyes. She blinked, wavered, then hugged him again; this time he was prepared and gently patted her on the back.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed softly into his chest and he sighed, waiting. "It's just…I had that key you borrowed to me earlier and after that radio announcement earlier with the new body and…"

Renji gave her another soft pat on the back as she took a shaky breath, then finally pulled away from him, forcing a small smile.

"I didn't want to be home alone, and even though you weren't here, I felt safer here than I did at home," she finished explaining as she guided the limping redhead to a chair at the table. He collapsed onto it, heaving a sigh as the weight was taken off of his foot and he propped it up on the table so the girl could have a look. She disappeared for a moment, returning wit ha glass of water and a small first aid kit Renji had never seen before. He took a large gulp of the water before setting the glass down with a quiet thanks.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, nodding toward the first aid kit as the girl set it down and opened it. She pulled out a little packet and tore the top off, pulling out an antiseptic wipe.

"I bought it earlier when I was grocery shopping. I knew you foot was hurt and noticed you didn't have anything to help," she said as she unfolded the wipe. She took hold of his foot with one hand and moved the wipe toward it. "This is going to sting."

Renji's leg jerked as she dabbed the wound, but she held his foot solidly, wiping gently at the oozing cut. The wound continued to burn with agony even after she pulled the wipe away and looked at the bottom of his foot.

"I think you may have sliced a tendon," she said slightly alarmed, but Renji just looked at her dumbly.

Orihime blinked at him as she opened another little packet that Renji couldn't identify.

"That means you really will have to go to a doctor," she told him matter-of-factly as she applied an ointment to the cut. Renji winced slightly at the tickle of her finger against the arch of his foot. He didn't acknowledge her statement, but took another drink of water as the orange-haired girl began to wrap a bandage around his foot. She closed up the first aid kit when she had finished, then disappeared to put it away while Renji finished his water and removed his foot from the table. It throbbed with the sudden rush of blood that flowed to it and Renji wiggled his toes, staring at his wrapped foot.

"So why are you home early?" Renji looked up to see that Orihime had gotten into the kitchen without him noticing and was preparing some food.

"Oh," the memories of what happened at the restaurant came rushing back to him, and he felt panic and fear try to overtake him; he pushed it back down. "I…got fired."

He felt something clatter in the kitchen and Orihime appeared, looking surprised and mildly alarmed. Renji hid his shame by pretending his foot was hurting; Orihime was fooled by the fake grimace.

"What are you going to do about rent?" she questioned timidly, and Renji's soft curse made her jump.

"I don't know," he mumbled, staring at his toes; they both sighed.

* * *

When Ryuuken left the restaurant, he saw Uryuu off in his cab, with no questions about his strange behavior toward the red-haired dishwasher. He then began the short walk to the subway station, reaching the stairs quickly but pausing at a non-too peculiar sight. A grungy, tattered looking man, sat near the stairs with an old, rusted coffee can at his feet. Ryuuken glanced into the can and saw a couple coins, nothing at all impressive. His gaze returned to the man and Ryuuken met the beggar's eyes for a moment before the man looked away, embarrassment, shame, and broken pride smeared among the dirt on his face. Ryuuken's eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, scrutinizing.

"You know, there are plenty of other homeless guys on this block that probably wouldn't mind being made a spectacle of. How about you go find one of them and leave me alone if you're not going to leave me any cash," the scruffy man commanded with an air of defeat. Ryuuken was sure there used to be authority in that tone, but any that should have been there had long gone. He tipped his head as much as he could to see the beggars face, and as soon as it became clear to him, Ryuuken took a step back.

"Isshin Kurosaki," his tone was all smugness and knowing as the now-identified man shrunk into himself, ashamed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Bleach does NOT belong to me. I make no profit from twisting Tite Kubo's characters to my will.

**Author's Note: **First of all, I want to apologize to everyone for taking such a long time to update this. I've had a lot going on recently, including family health issues, work, school, car accidents, and many other things that made it difficult for me to continue working on this piece of fiction. To be honest, this has been done and sitting in a notebook on my desk for a long, long time now, and I only just found the time to type it up and upload it. I have a good start on chapter seven, which I will try to spit out as quickly as possible now that I won't have nearly as much going on, and I hope that it will be much, much longer than this. This is an EXTREMELY short chapter, and I'm sorry for that; you all deserve so much more than this for the long time that I made you wait. Once again, I apologize sincerely to all of you.

Now that I have more time to dedicate to my writing, I hope to be making more semi-regular updates. Thank you so much for waiting as patiently as you have been, and please enjoy this chapter!

* * *

The once-upon-a-time doctor avoided the eyes of the man who used to be his peer. Ryuuken leered down at the man who had lost it all – sued for malpractice, he had no money left and his license had been taken away. His son kicked him out a month later after he had done nothing but sulk and self-pity his way into even more debt. It had been all over the news for a while, and even then Ryuuken had had enough connections to the Kurosaki family to know what was going on on the inside. His own son Uryuu had been schoolmates with Isshin's son Ichigo, and while they didn't speak much after high school, Ryuuken had made sure that all ties were cut once Isshin got himself on the wrong side of the law. As he told Uryuu – he couldn't have one spoiled doctor ruining his name.

But all of that had occurred so long ago now that Ryuuken was sure everyone had forgotten. He also saw a golden opportunity for a little publicity for his hospital, which he wasn't about to pass up.

"How the mighty have fallen, Isshin," Ryuuken taunted, and the goat-faced man sat up a little straighter. "I see your son still hasn't welcome you back home."

"He said he didn't want that kind of 'negative energy' around. Have a little compassion, Ryuuken. Never mind, I forgot who I was talking to," Isshin retorted easily, and apparently without regret. His eyes gleamed with a mischief that hadn't graced them in a long time, and Ryuuken almost smiled.

"Rather than alms for the poor, how about I spare something a little better," he could see Isshin's interest stir but the homeless man remained non-chalant.

"Like food?" Isshin joked. "Because I can't remember the last time I ate." Ryuuken took a step forward and leaned down to meet his ex-colleague's eyes.

"I was thinking something more substantial," Ryuuken's lowered voice was filled with something akin to amusement and something dangerous that Isshin couldn't quite place. "Like maybe helping you get your life back."

* * *

An orange-haired man swung open the door of a larger gym, bustling inside and pulling the door shut behind him, fighting the cold wind that tried to keep it open. He swore loudly as the wind blew his scarf back into his face and he tore the article off as he stomped toward the front desk. The girl sitting there raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet as the man removed his coat and threw both it and the scarf down onto the counter.

"Are you sure we're not in a nuclear winter?" he complained as the girl took his coat and scarf.

"Have you been dropping any nukes, Ichigo?" Because I know I haven't," she gave him a sarcastic grin that he didn't return.

"You're such a bitch, Tatsuki," he grumbled, to which she only continued to grin. He stared at her for a moment before turning to face the near empty gym. He watched a few college students from the nearby university work out in the early morning light.

"It's too empty in here," he sighed, and Tatsuki nodded solemnly. Ichigo shook his head and turned toward the counter, laying his head down against the cool surface and closing his eyes.

A gush of cool air rushed into the room and Ichigo scowled, looking up from the counter and poised to start yelling at the idiot who left the door open. He paused, however, when he saw a smaller-built, dark-haired girl locked in battled with the large glass door. She tugged at the handle, trying to force it shut, but the wind pulled on the door harder, snow swirling with each wild gust as the girl was almost pitched out into the cold winter day.

Ichigo would have found this situation comical if he hadn't just experience such trouble himself. Instead of laughing, as Tatsuki was doing, the orange-haired man crossed to the door and yanked it shut with one rough tug, causing the shorter girl to fall backwards into him. He caught her easily, surprised at how light she was, and stared down at her as she caught her breath. Ichigo's inner voice remarked dryly about how he should have found this attractive – arousing, even – this girl sprawled hap-hazardly in his arms, face flushed a soft pink from the cold and exertion, hair fanned out over her shoulders. However, the only thing that Ichigo actually noticed was how much this girl resembled Senator Kuchiki.

"Hey," Tatsuki called, voice sharp. "You okay, Rukia?"

The girl waved at the tomboy and smiled breathlessly. That's when it hit him.

Ichigo shouted in surprise and let go of the girl in his arms, causing her to fall to the floor with a yelp.

"Rukia Kuchiki?" his pitch climbed as he turned wide-eyed on Tatsuki, who only grinned in response.

"Hey!" Rukia growled, jumping up from the floor and grabbing Ichigo by his ear. He cried out, cringing as she tugged on the reddening his appendage. "What are you thinking, dropping a lady like that?! Don't you have any values?"

The other patrons of the gym had stopped now to watch the unfolding scene, oblivious to Tatsuki rolling in laughter behind the counter. The two continued bickering for a long while until they both ran out of steam, ending the argument in a huff of breath and heavy glares.

All of a sudden, it seemed as thought Ichigo remember something because he suddenly flushed and turned away, heading quickly toward the counter where Tatsuki was watching him with a knowing grin. The tomboyish girl turned toward Rukia and smiled softly.

"So, Senator Kuchiki's little sister, what brings you here?"

* * *

A few quick ending notes for you:

I'm aware that this was quite short, and not as good as it should have been. I do apologize for that, once again. The quality will be better with the next chapter, I promise.

Also, Ichigo and Renji seem to have similar inner thoughts, don't they? Refer to previous chapters if you don't remember what I'm talking about. Why does Ichigo seem distressed at the presence of the Senator's younger sister? What are your opinions on this, guys? Review please! I like to read your feedback, no matter what it is!


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** MAN, do I fail, or do I FAIL? D: ...On second thought, please don't answer that, orz. I'm SO sorry for making you guys wait this long. Life caught up with me and my muse left me ALL AT THE SAME TIME. I recently moved, and my writing muse has started to come back to me now that I'm settled in to this new house and I have all this free time. I'll be working on this monster a WHOLE LOT more, as well as a couple new projects that you guys may or may not be interested in. A friend and I are working on a Hetalia AU fic together that is already turning out to be GOLD, so I hope to be able to share that with you guys soon, too.

For now, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, as short as it is, and I'll be putting the next one up almost immediately after this one.

* * *

The large, foreboding building towered over Orihime's small (in comparison) pink Volkswagon bug as the car idled under the awning of the emergency room car port. She and Renji sat, unmoving, in the front seat, staring at the doors with **EMERGENCY ROOM** printed on them in bold, red letters. Under that, a **NO SMOKING** sign glared threateningly out at them. A car drove slowly past, then another, before Orihime jerked to life and turned to look at Renji.

"You go on in, I'll find a place to park," she told him, wincing at the sound of her own voice in the all-too quiet car. Renji swallowed audibly and shook his head, staring at the bright and obtrusive red lettering of the doors. Orihime sighed and parked the car, turning to face Renji fully now.

"You need to do this," she said softly, and Renji grimaced.

"I can't afford this, Orhime," he mumbled pathetically, and she sighed.

"I know. We'll figure something out, okay? I promise."

Renji watched her face for a long moment before sighing and unbuckling his seat belt. He opened the car door and exited the pink vehicle, looking back at Orihime nervously before advancing to the double sliding doors. He paused to watch as the pink Volkswagon pulled into the parking lot, then continued into the hospital.

The rush of warm, heated air that greeted him was welcome, the cold of the day already stinging at his cheeks and tuning them a red bright enough to rival his hair.

Renji filled out a sign-in form at the counter and then found a seat in the nearly empty waiting room. Orihime bustled in shortly after, red in the face and puffing gently. She handed Renji a cup of hot chocolate and he thanked her quietly.

"My friends get hurt a lot, so I know my way around the hospital pretty well," she explained away the question forming on the tip of Renji's tongue. "There's a hot chocolate machine right inside one of the other entrances."

Renji sipped his hot chocolate and watched her for a moment, a bit baffled by the sudden knowledge that she knew her way around a hospital so well. However, the moment of reflection ended when a blonde man with a long hair held back in a pony tail approached them, looking confused and surprised. Renji stared at him, unsettled by the fact that this random guy was staring not at him, but at Orihime, who seemed oblivious.

"Hime?" the blonde finally spoke, startling the young woman out of her reverie and making her jump, almost spilling her hot chocolate everywhere. Renji reached over and slid the cup out of her grasp as she looked up and stared at the blonde in surprise.

"Il Forte?!" she blinked up at him, hands still holding the air in the shape of her hot chocolate. The man smiled a small, barely-there smile that didn't reach his eyes and glanced at Renji.

"I thought you had the day off today, Hime...what are you doing here?"

Orihime blinked at him for a long moment, fishing for words as she glanced back and forth between Renji and the newcomer. After a minute she began waving her hands frantically at Renji, trying to quickly explain away the situation.

"I-I, uh, I mean," she stammered, failing in her attempt to make sense out of the situation. The blonde's smile widened a fraction, and Renji's eyes narrowed.

"Hi, I'm Il Forte, Orihime's coworker and the Triage nurse today," the blonde introduced himself, and Renji raised an eyebrow, looking the man in pale blue scrubs up and down. Orihime deflated next to him, looking entirely defeated. Renji's head swiveled to the girl seated next to him and she seemed to shrink in shame.

"You work here?" he asked simply, voice level; she nodded. Renji smiled and set down his cup of now luke-warm chocolate to affectionately ruffle the girl's hair. She blinked at him curiously and Renji shook his head at her.

"Loser. Why didn't you just tell me that?" he asked her, ignoring the man who was now on one knee in front of him, examining his bandaged foot. Orihime looked at the blonde, still slightly red in the face, and Renji resisted the urge to kick the man as he prodded at the sensitive wound.

"Looks like you sliced a tendon," he observed almost boredly, raising his gaze to rest not on his patient but on the girl seated next to him.

"That's what I told him!" Orihime exclaimed, flushing again with pride as Il Forte gave her a smile.

"You did a good job wrapping it, Hime," the blonde complimented, causing the girl to flush once again. Renji found that the more the man spoke, the more he wanted to kick him in the face.

The redhead cleared his throat slightly, and the two nurses looked at him. Il Forte blinked at him owlishly for a moment before removing himself from the floor.

"Lets get you into a room, then."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **I THINK THIS ONE IS EVEN SHORTER THAN THE LAST ONE, OTL. -dies- Again, guys, I'm soooooo sorry. I'll be working on chapter nine over the next few days and hopefully my updates will become more regular now that I have no life again. XD;

Hopefully you enjoy this chapter. I don't like it; it argued with me the whole time I was writing it and I really had to push at it to get it to agree with me. Even then, it didn't agree completely, and I'm still unsatisfied with the way this whole thing turned out. D:

* * *

Renji sat on the hospital bed in the emergency room, looking less than pleased as the long-haired blonde marked things down on a chart. The redhead would occasionally tap his foot impatiently, earning worried glances from Orihime and irritated ones from the male nurse.

After a long silence filled only by the scribbling of pen on paper and Renji's impatient tapping, the blonde turned to them, looking unaffected by the redhead's lack of patience.

"I'll send a doctor in as soon as one becomes available," he spoke to Orihime rather than Renji, and the girl nodded airily.

"Thank you, Il Forte," she smiled at his back as he left and Renji grumbled something under his breath. She turned to him quickly and he immediately made an attempt at a smile. It came out as more of a grimace.

"It was so nice of him to see us right away, don't you think?" she asked enthusiastically, hands clasped together in front of her as she looked at him with those doe eyes.

"He only did it because he has the hots for you, Hime," he told her as gently as he could while looking at his foot again. It must have been at least the fifth time that hour she had seen him stare at the injured appendage, and with no real lack of disdain, either. Orihime sighed and sat next to the redhead, leaning on him gently.

"It'll be okay, Renji, I promise," she told her friend seriously. Then, the comment about her co-worker sunk in.

"Eh?! You mean he likes me?" she wailed rather loudly, leaning back to look at her friend. Renji winced, but smiled.

"Doesn't it mean the same thing?" he asked, nudging her gently, and she flushed, shaking her head.

A moment later, the glass door to the room slid open causing Orihime to jump and Renji to turn quickly to look at the entrant. He immediately blanched, seeing a familiar face – the white-haired, bespectacled man that had gotten him fired.

Orihime practically launched herself off of the bed, bumping her head on the cupboards nearby as she did. She rubbed her head gingerly for a moment, watching the man across the room.

"Orihime," his expression remained unchanged as he rounded on the girl, tone only revealing the barest hint of interest. "I thought you had the day off today."

She met the seemingly off-handed remark with a sheepish grin and a nervous laugh.

"Ah, yes, sir, I do. But you see, my friend is injured, so I drove him in," she explained rather quickly, and Renji wondered if the man caught any of it at all. The silence stretch on and Orihime tried to fill it.

"A-Are you the doctor on call today, sir?" she asked timidly, and Renji wondered if asking the man questions was really such a good idea. He seemed unbothered, however, and responded with a brief nod.

"Yes, Orihime, I'm working the ER this morning and the clinic later this afternoon," he remarked, stepping into the room and looking at the redhead seated on the bed for possibly the first time. Renji silently prayed that the man wouldn't remember him.

"Abarai, Renji," the man said slowly, and Renji immediately winced. He quickly began filling through apologies and ass-kissing techniques, but stopped when the man looked back down at the chart in his hands. Renji caught himself from breathing a sigh of relief.

"Yes, sir," he tacked the formality on the end, copying Orihime. He saw the girl over the man's shoulder let out a sigh similar to the one he held in.

"Il Forte tells me you sliced a tendon," the man continued in monotone, and Orihime blurted out, 'So I was right!' before she could stop herself. She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth fearfully, but her boss didn't turn around.

"This means you have two options," the man continued, unfazed by the interruption. "We can put your foot in a cast for a few weeks, or we can wrap it and have you return periodically to have it re-wrapped."

Renji cringed at the thought of having his foot in a cast, and wondered how he was supposed to walk. As if having read his mind, the intimidating doctor spoke again.

"You'll be walking with a crutch, and must stay off of your foot as much as possible," he paused, as if considering something, then slowly added, "You may want to take some time off from your job."

Renji met his gaze, and instantly understood – he knew. Renji's gaze sharpened and his mouth settled into a hard line.

"Yeah," he responded coldly. "I guess I'll have to do that."

The man's gaze shifted from the redhead to Orihime, then back.

"The cast it is, then. I'll send someone in," he said softly before leaving the room.

Orihime immediately rushed to Renji's side, breathing a sigh of relief as she hugged up to his arm, looking near tears. Renji allowed the closeness, wrapping the arm around her shoulders and hugging her tightly before finally letting out his own heavy sigh.

"Dr. Ishida is so scary," she whimpered, and Renji huffed a small, exasperated laugh.

"He's the one who got me fired, Hime," he told her, and she let out a quiet sob.


End file.
